


Trapdoor~Dan Howell/ Tyler Joseph (you pick)

by notebookofdreams



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Twenty One Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebookofdreams/pseuds/notebookofdreams
Summary: Everyone gather around for a show





	Trapdoor~Dan Howell/ Tyler Joseph (you pick)

**Author's Note:**

> My first Songfic: you pick the man in this story, Dan Howell or Tyler Joseph. (If you have someone else in mind, go for it!) I suggest you hear the song first or play it as you read. Nothing really serious in this one. There's a knife but it doesn't do anything; it's just there.

Flickering lights illuminated the dark bathroom, millisecond at a time...revealing the man's pale face. After a few flickers he disappeared.

His nightly routine was drawing near. Familiar feelings flooded his body.

The shaking. The heart pounding against his chest. The empty feelings of wishing there was just a little more space filled in, so he didn't have to suffer from so much loss.

The dizziness, blindness, collapsing to the hard tile at the bottom of his mind. The tile was cold, hard, slippery, and broken so that pieces of it would pierce his hands and knees whenever he fell. It was like chipping, cracked ice that infected his body with more and more disorders, one by one, night by night.

He doesn't realize they're developing until he is in his escape and notices the familiarity of everything. Symptoms repeated over and over again in the same events. Psychopath? Only at night.

The clock shows 3:00 AM exactly. Time to begin.

_He wakes up early today_  
_Throws on a mask that will alter his face_  
_Nobody knows his real name_  
_But now he just uses one he saw on a grave_

He had to look pretty for other people. He had to fit in...be normal. No blank stares, no pale face, no violent shaking. Smile. Talk to others.

_He pretends he's okay_  
_But you should see_  
_Him in bed late at night_  
_He's petrified_

His hands streaked down the mirror.

_"Take me out.......and finish this waste of a life."_

This pretty face was a big fat lie.

_Everyone gather around for a show_  
_Watch as this man disappears as we know_  
_Do me a favor and try to ignore_  
_As you watch him fall through a blatant trapdoor_

His hand clawed across his face, leaving dark red marks underneath his eye. The mark was striking against his white face. Sometimes, during nights like this, he would hear familiar voices...deep ones..He would see shadows in the darkness of familiar faces: loved ones he never knew in real life. He didn't sleep anymore; you don't need to sleep when your life is a constantly running nightmare.

_He thinks that faith might be dead_  
_Nothing kills a man faster than his own head_  
_He used to see dreams at night_  
_But now he's just watching the backs of his eyes_

Black. White. Black. White. This was all he ever saw at night.

_He pretends he's okay_  
_But you should see_  
_Him in bed late at night_  
_He's petrified_

_"Take me out...............and finish this waste of a life."_

_Everyone gather around for a show_  
_Watch as this man disappears as we know_  
_Do me a favor and try to ignore_  
_As you watch him fall through a blatant trapdoor_

He was just so hidden. He acted like someone else, someone he didn't even like just for others. Really, he was such a sweet person and he just knew that if everyone knew him for who he truly was, they would love him. But he couldn't let them know in fear of being exposed and being hated for his true self. They could only hate who he pretended to be. Someone who didn't exist. He changed every era. Made new friends, dropped the old. He didn't mean to, it just happened to him.

He walked to his dresser and opened a drawer. Inside was a framed photograph of him and his best friend before his best friend died. The fact that he was gone made the photograph look so ancient and the man's eyes welled up in tears. Under the photograph was a large knife. He wasn't going to use it; knives were just his comfort object. His name was fancily engraved on the blade.

His best friend was the sunshine in his life to help him get through his difficult nights. He would sit with him and talk to him for hours until the man finally decided to get some rest. They had been best friends for many years, and understood each other like no one else could. Now that his friend was gone, the man had lost any faith in his life that he ever may have possibly had. It was just over for him. now. There was nowhere left to go...and no one left to go to.

 

 

But he remembered what his friend had told him before he passed away. Always have faith, always hope for a better day. Stay alive...stay alive, for me.

 

 

 

_"Take me out..................................and **finish this waste of a life.** "_

This pretty face was a **BIG. FAT. LIE.**

_Everyone gather around for a show_  
_Watch as this man disappears as we know_  
_Do me a favor and try to ignore_  
_When you watch him fall through a blatant trapdoor....._

Up came the sun. Down came the shaking, the fears, the anxiety. The piece of his soul that held his tired bones and muscle together, the blessing left by his best friend, glowed inside him, mimicking the large, fiery, sun.

 

 

_'Cause nobody knows he's alive_


End file.
